


Tempestas

by sammichgirl



Category: Supernatural
Genre: First Kiss, M/M, Mutual Pining, Mythology References, UST, Weecest, Wincest - Freeform, but really it was, curse made them do it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-27
Updated: 2020-12-27
Packaged: 2021-03-10 20:00:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,972
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28362810
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sammichgirl/pseuds/sammichgirl
Summary: A curse box unleashes a lot more than just a storm as Dean works through his feelings about Sam.
Relationships: Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester
Comments: 10
Kudos: 113
Collections: 2020 Supernatural & CWRPF Holiday Exchange





	Tempestas

**Author's Note:**

  * For [locknkey](https://archiveofourown.org/users/locknkey/gifts).



> Written for the SPN J2 XMAS exchange, for [locknkey.](https://archiveofourown.org/users/locknkey/)
> 
> (I tried to hit several of your prompts/likes in this: first kiss, summer rain, UST, underage, and something made them do it. I hope you enjoy, wishing you a joyous holiday! (I am so sorry for being late with your gift, thank you for your patience)
> 
> Thank you to the mods at SPN-J2-XMAS, oddishly & glovered, for their hard work and patience as well!

[ ](https://imgur.com/AAB0G26)

** NOW **

“Tell me, Dean. You know-you _know_ what will break this curse. I can see it in your face. Tell me what it is!” Sam’s voice was distraught as the wind whipped through the broken living room window, blowing the sodden curtains so hard they plastered to the ceiling. Hail began falling as the storm raged on outside, unrelenting over the last twenty-four hours, growing in strength. Sam was shivering, teeth chattering, as he stood up and moved closer into Dean’s space, their faces nearly touching.

Dean stood transfixed, soaked to the skin, as he completely understood the riddle in the lore Sam had found on the goddess. The dawning realization that it was Sam. Of course it was Sam. It would always be Sam.

** THEN **

Dean helped John load the truck with the last of the curse boxes. His dad had mentioned taking them someplace safe, which would require several days out to upstate New York and back. Dean looked around for Sam, expecting to find him standing by, sullen and surly, as he often was where their dad was concerned lately. However, his little brother had disappeared back into the house they were squatting in, no doubt doing something lame like homework or losing himself in another freaking book. Anything to avoid confrontation.

Dean sighed and shut the truck bed door, pounding on it twice to let his dad know he was clear to take off. Dean had his orders: no hunts until John returned, hustle up some funds, and look out for Sammy. Always the same standing orders, although he never needed to be reminded about Sam. Dean felt more often than not that he wouldn’t even be able to breathe without Sam in his world. Those kind of thoughts made him squirm; he could never put his finger on exactly why, just that he knew it to be true.

The rumble of the truck fading into the distance let loose a held breath within him. He wasn’t really sure where the sense of relief came from and he looked up at the sunny sky, letting the late summer warmth wash over him. Three to four days on their own, the possibilities were endless. He walked into the house they’d stumbled upon a week ago – owners on vacation, far enough from the nearest neighbor that they wouldn’t draw attention – and set his shoulders to face Sam. Unsure which version of angsty teen he’d get today, he squared his jaw and rolled his neck before walking into the living room. Where he promptly stopped.

“Sam, what the hell!?” Dean couldn’t contain the loud shout and the sudden need to _protect Sammy_ that came over him when he saw exactly what Sam was working on.

Sam gave him an epic bitchface, before rolling his eyes. “Dude, I’m not stupid, I didn’t open it. I haven’t even touched it.” He glanced to the box laid on the coffee table, carefully nestled just inside a burlap sack. “I just wanted to try and crack the symbols on the outside. They’re in a different language than most curse boxes.”

“Dammit, Sammy, dad is gonna kill you!” Dean practically jumped over the couch to get to the box and move it away from his brother. They hadn’t had time to figure all the boxes out yet, as John had wanted them locked up securely and warded for safety before anything had a chance to go wrong around his boys. Curse boxes were funny things – you never knew what would set off the cursed item inside.

Gingerly picking the small, square box up using the fabric of the sack, Dean moved it to the large dining room table. At least it would be safer there, no chance of it getting knocked off and falling open. He sighed, exasperation clear on his face. _Sammy._

Sam gathered up his notes and a few books and moved to the table as well. “It looks like mythologic symbols. Ancient Roman, maybe?” He opened one of the books and started flipping pages. “I think I can translate this, Dean. At least we can know what it is or references. I wanted to catalog everything for dad.” Hazel eyes looked up at Dean imploringly, but he wasn’t fooled. This wasn’t for dad. It was for Sam’s own insatiable need to learn.

Dean watched as Sam settled in to resume his research. God but his little brother was the most adorable nerd. And stubborn as hell – he wouldn’t give in until he’d solved the mystery in front of him. “Fine. But NO touching, ok? I’m gonna go grab us some grub, see what hotspot in town we can hit later for a little hustle action.” Twirling his car keys in one hand, he let himself ruffle Sam’s soft hair with the other. He wasn’t disappointed when Sam gave him another endearing bitchface. “Back in an hour. Lock up behind me.”

*****

Sam spent the time waiting Dean’s return delving into multiple texts and language references. He carefully compared the symbols on the box to those he found online through museum resources. He was sure he had solved the who and what of the curse box, but still wasn’t sure exactly what the item inside would do if the curse was unleashed, although he did have an inkling. He didn’t believe just opening the box would do any harm, but he also knew Dean would kick his ass if he did so, so he waited not so patiently until Dean’s return.

When Sam heard the familiar coded knock, he practically knocked over the chair to get to the door and unlock it. Opening it, he was all brightly pink-cheeked and already babbling excitedly.

“Dean, it IS Roman! Well, Latin transcription, but from the original Roman based text. It’s from ancient mythology and related to the goddess Tempestas – she’s the goddess of storms, and the box holds something from her temple that was desecrated. Scipio built the temple to her in honor of her saving him and his fleet in Corsica during a great storm back in 259 B.C. I think I know what the curse does but I’m not positive yet without opening the box to-“

“No.” Dean strode in and dropped the greasy bags of burgers and fries on the opposite end of the table, taking a big swig of soda from the cup in his hand. He knew immediately where this was going and that just wasn’t happening on his watch.

“You didn’t let me finish. If I could just-“ Sam’s voice held that thin note of bitchiness and brattiness that occurred more often these days when he was challenged. When Dean glanced at him, he saw that jut of chin and knew he was in for an argument.

“No, Sam. We are _not_ opening that box. Can’t you just be content in knowing what you learned already?” Dean shoved a bag towards him and sat down to dig into his own bag.

Defeated, Sam rolled his eyes as he reached for his dinner. “Jerk,” he muttered under his breath.

Dean grinned at him, mouth full of fries. “Bitch.”

*****

After a few B-comedy movies and Dean drinking most of a six pack, he’d forgotten about heading into town to hustle at pool or darts. He’d offered Sam a beer early on, and Sam had nursed it over the last few hours. _Lightweight_.

Plus Dean was comfortable on the couch with Sam tucked into his side, sharing a blanket and a bucket of popcorn like old times. It felt right, natural. Dean was content and he didn’t focus too much on why that was even though he knew deep down.

Outside a gentle rain had started falling, one of those end-of-summer rains that wanted to be chilly while the summer heat still hung in the air. It was cozy in the living room of the large house, and Dean let himself relax, not wanting to disturb the peace they had going on. Moments like this had become farther and fewer between, and Dean wanted to hold on tight to it as long as he could.

*****

Sam had woken early to find it still lightly raining and gone for a quick run. He tended to think better while running, letting his mind free associate with problems he was trying to work out. A quick five mile jog had him itching to get back to the curse box. One of the symbols had niggled at him all night and he thought he might be able to piece together the words now.

When he came back, sweating and rain soaked, Dean had the coffee pot perking.

“Gonna hit the shower.” Sam strode through the kitchen to the bathroom, stripping off his shirt as he went.

Dean’s brain was still offline from sleep, he couldn’t find a good retort and his mouth went dry at the vision of Sam, wet and dripping, revealing an expanse of suntanned skin before he disappeared into the bathroom.

Dean poured a cup of coffee and damn near burnt the roof of his mouth trying to drink it too quickly.

When Sam emerged about twenty minutes later, Dean had a cup of coffee waiting for him, and a short stack of pancakes.

“You cooked?” Sam added cream and sugar to his cup, sitting down across from Dean.

“Pantry was full, figured why not take advantage? We can’t always eat take out and diner food.” Dean resolutely did _not_ watch Sam slather butter and syrup across his pancakes and lick the sticky droplets from his fingers.

Sam nodded to the curse box as he speared a bite. “I think I’ve got it. That last word was tricky, but I think I’ve got the full meaning all around.”

“Sam. We are _not_ opening that box.” Dean stared his little brother down as Sam tried to make the earnest puppy face he was so good at.

“Opening it won’t launch the curse.” Blinking kaleidoscope-colored eyes, soft, pleading.

“You don’t know that.” _His stupid pretty face._

“I’m pretty sure. Like. 99% sure.” Sam let his dimples pop, that charming smile beaming bright.

“It’s the 1% that worries me, Sam. No.” _Why can’t I think straight when it comes to him?_ “Why don’t you tell me you’ve got so far on it, geek boy?”

Sam shoved his plate to the side and pulled the burlap sack closer to him, maneuvering the box to read all around it. “I told you it’s related to Tempestas, right? The Roman goddess? It says, _temerata vt irarum in templo et in corde tempestas._ Basically, the desecrated temple unleashes the storm within the heart.”

“No way there’s a desecrated temple in that box.” Dean chewed the last of his pancakes and gulped his coffee down. “Okay, well, you solved the case, Sherlock. Let’s wrap this back up and go do something fun today.” Dean moved to slide the bag back towards him, and missed Sam’s mischievous grin.

“It’s still raining outside. Guess we should just stay in.” Sam held a finger down on the edge of the sack.

“Nope, I know what you’re trying to do Sam. It’s just a summer rain. It’ll pass.” Dean yanked a bit harder on the sack as Sam released his finger, and the box went flying off the table.

Both brothers watched in fascination and horror as a distinct cracking sound was heard. Dean threw his arm out to stop Sam from rushing towards the box as he himself bent down to gather the bag and wooden shards. He stopped as he took in what the box had held, a piece of worn white concrete with cloud symbols carved into it. The part itself was intact, but Dean realized too late that his thumb had brushed against it while trying to scoop up the pieces of the box in the rush to keep Sam from trying to help.

As he muttered a swift, “dammit,” there was a huge crack of thunder and the misting rain outside turned into a torrential downpour.

Dean looked out the window as Sam opened the front door; gathering storm clouds were building in the distance and the air had turned colder, the temperature plummeting way faster than was normal. Both brothers looked at each other and then to the broken box. Simultaneously they spoke.

“I guess opening the box…” Sam gestured, a frown on his face as he realized how much danger they were likely in. He’d been so sure.

“No, it was me, Sammy, I touched the relic.” Dean’s voice was apologetic and more than a bit frantic.

“Let me check my notes. I think I saw something that might help with whatever is coming.” Sam went to check his research while Dean turned on the local news, hoping for a weather report.

“Well, she’s the goddess of storms, right? And given what’s going on outside, I’m thinking bad storms until we break the curse?” Dean felt like that was too easy, there had to be something else. As he waited for Sam to come up with more information, a special bulletin popped up on the TV. “So, a freak nor’easter storm is expected to move through, slowly. Seems like it came out of nowhere. And oh.” Dean took a deep breath and shook his head. “Nor’easters can be just as bad or worse than hurricanes. Sam, the size of this one, it’s gonna be huge and have direct impact across the state.”

“Okay, I’m on it, Dean. Start helping me by going through this pile over here, anything on storms or curses.” Sam tapped a small stack of books on mythology to his left. He had moved the broken box to the table and was trying to piece it together, not worried about touching now that the damage was done . “There’s an inscription inside. I’m gonna need to translate that as well.”

Well into the afternoon, they were both exhausted.

“Hopefully we don’t lose power. This thing really looks nasty.” Dean scratched his head and took mental stock of their supplies. “Say, Sam. I’m gonna make a quick run into town for flashlights and batteries. Just in case. I’ll pick up a pizza for later.”

Sighing, Sam gave him a dark look that Dean knew wasn’t supposed to be sultry and yet... “No beer, alright? We gotta take care of this.”

“Then a two liter of Mr. Pibb it is.”

*****

Not quite an hour later, Dean returned, pizza cold and the box containing it fairly soggy. The power had indeed gone out on his way back – all over town. He’d bought two heavy duty Mag-Lites and extra batteries at the local hardware store.

Sam was working by candlelight as the storm raged on, having found some fancy dining room candles that wouldn’t last much longer. A battery powered radio was tuned in on the weather frequency, and Sam wasn’t surprised to find that the center of the storm seemed to be hovering right over the town they were in.

He’d also made a discovery on the inscription. He was trying to puzzle out the meaning behind it, _rabidum incitat turbine tempestatis_ – who stirs the storm and tames the tempest? There was nothing in the lore about anything or anyone controlling the goddess.

“Got anything yet?” Dean plopped the pizza box on the table and started loading the flashlights with batteries. He shed his drenched coat and boots and went to the bedroom to pull on a hoodie and fresh socks. He’d been feeling twisted up inside since the first bolt of lightening and kept trying to ignore that it was tied to the broken curse box or the relic he’d accidentally touched. He wandered back out, grabbing a towel to dry his hair.

“Yeah, got the inscription, not sure what it means though. Here, take a look.” Sam pushed his notebook towards Dean. “It’s practically pitch black outside, man. This is a major storm. Gonna do a lot of damage. And it’s all my fault.” He turned up the volume on the radio for an update on the weather. “Dean, the temperature is still dropping. This might even turn to snow!” Disbelief shone clear on his face. “Has New York ever seen snow in August?”

“I doubt it, Sammy. And it’s not your fault. Well. Not _all_ your fault. We’re both to blame on this one. Let’s just take care of it before dad gets back.” Dean studied the riddle before him, pondering over it. He knew it had to be about him since he’d touched the relic but the logic in it escaped him. He glanced over at Sam. “This make any sense to you?”

“No, there’s nothing I can find on what might antagonize or control Tempestas. It’s obviously something to do with her temple being destroyed, but other than that, zilch. There’s not a lot of information on her at all, actually.” Sam tapped his pencil against his temple before placing the end in his mouth. “I’ll keep digging.”

*****

Come morning, both brothers had fallen asleep at the table, their feet intertwined underneath. They’d dug through every book at their disposal and hashed out a dozen different theories. Without power, Sam couldn’t delve into the internet for more resources, and their phones were dead without a way to recharge them.

Dean had a growing suspicion through the night what the riddle meant the more he thought about it. But if he voiced it – and especially if he was right – then things were going to be very different between he and Sam and he wasn’t sure if he could handle the rejection it would lead to. Not from Sammy.

He woke when the twisty feeling inside him seemed to thrum. Looking over at Sam, he smiled. Sam’s bangs had fallen into his face, his cupid’s bow mouth was slightly open, and long lashes fanned out against his cheek. Not wanting to wake Sam, he realized their feet were tangled up so he didn’t dare move. One of Sam’s arms was stretched out across the table, mirroring one of Dean’s own. Their fingers were just out of reach from each other. He arched his neck a bit to glance outside, and the rain had turned into freezing sleet. Not quite hail, not yet anyway. Frozen drops clinked against the window and roof; he could hear the wind still howling.

As he contemplated getting up and stretching, maybe taking a hot shower, the living room window exploded inward from a forceful gust. Sam woke with a start as Dean scrambled over the table to keep Sam safe from the flying glass.

Wide-eyed and in shock, Sam huddled against Dean as he moved them towards the bedrooms.

“It’s okay, Sammy, I’ve got you. Let’s get into a safer space.”

“Dean, what’s going on?”

“The storm, Sam, remember? The goddess? The curse?”

“No, Dean, I mean. With _you_. You’re glowing. Like. There’s a light all around your face!”

“What?” Dean turned in the hallway to peer into the bathroom and look into a mirror. His entire body had a glow to it, his face practically lit up like a beacon. When he looked at Sam, his heart felt like it might explode from joy. “Sam, I…I don’t know. This is, I don’t know Sammy.” He spoke softly, afraid something might pass his lips he shouldn’t utter.

As Sam peered at him, Dean could see tumblers falling into place like picking a lock would open. Sam turned from him and ran back to his notebook, frantically flipping a book open and rereading under his breath whatever had sparked an idea. Dean was sure his own breathing had come to a standstill, almost like he was watching in slow motion.

Sam looked up in triumph. He was sure he knew. And furthermore, he was sure his big brother knew, too.

“Dean.” Sam spoke firmly.

“No Sam.” Dean had a hitch in his voice that gave him away.

“Dean, please.” Firmer, more emphatic.

“Sam, I can’t. I can’t.” Dean was shaking his head, no.

“Yes, you can. You can, Dean. Trust me.” Sam made eye contact and wouldn’t break away.

“Sam, you’ll-no, I can’t do it.” Dean’s eyes welling up, tears refusing to fall. His voice down to a murmur.

“This is going to get so much worse, Dean. People are going to get hurt if we don’t break it.” Sam let his voice slide into troubled, worried. “This won’t leave us alone until we’ve finished it.” Anxious now, truly concerned that maybe he was wrong, again. Looking at Dean, seeing tears fall, he knew he wasn’t though, he just needed to push a bit harder.

** NOW **

_“Tell me, Dean. You know-you **know** what will break this curse. I can see it in your face. Tell me what it is!” Sam’s voice was distraught as the wind whipped through the broken living room window, blowing the sodden curtains so hard they plastered to the ceiling. Hail began falling as the storm raged on outside, unrelenting over the last twenty-four hours, growing in strength. Sam was shivering, teeth chattering, as he stood up and moved closer into Dean’s space, their faces nearly touching._

_Dean stood transfixed, soaked to the skin, as he completely understood the riddle in the lore Sam had found on the goddess. The dawning realization that it was Sam. Of course it was Sam. It would always be Sam._

“It’s you, Sam. It’s always been you.” Dean whispered, risking it all. He waited with baited breath for Sam’s reaction.

“What’s me?” Sam asked gently, knowing Dean had to acknowledge it for the goddess to have her sacrifice.

“You’re the one. The one that-“ Dean moved around to the table, reading off the riddle Sam had transcribed. “ _rabidum incitat turbine tempestatis_ – who stirs the storm and tames the tempest. Within me, in my heart.” As soon as Dean finished saying it, he met Sam’s gaze. Nothing but love shone on his little brother’s face.

Sam slid back into Dean’s space, letting one arm wrap around his big brother’s back. Their faces were almost touching again, as they breathed in each other’s breath. Sam tilted his face up just a tad and let his eyes fall closed as he moved his body fully into Dean’s. Dean had risked his heart, his world. And Sam was answering in kind, meeting plush lips with his own as they kissed, pining hearts finding peace within each other.

Sunshine filled the living room as the cloud cover broke. The sound of hammering hail was replaced with the gentle splash of raindrops. When their kiss broke, they stared at each other, finding acceptance and love and relief.

In tune with each other once again, the rest of the day was spent cleaning up and boarding over the broken window. The rain gave way to an amazing rainbow as they worked side by side. In the evening they built a slightly larger curse box, replicating the original. They placed the broken box and piece of temple inside, then added one more inscription, should the curse ever be unleashed again: _urbs tam maledictum qui praevaricator tempestate sacra tempestatem alliduntur_ \- the curse breaker is the one who both stirs the storm and tames the tempest in the cursed.

Once the new box was properly warded they placed it back inside the burlap sack and tucked it under the edge of the bed John had been using. When he returned they’d feign ignorance and let him believe he’d simply forgotten it.

The two of them had things to work out, and if sending their dad back to wherever he’d gone with the other curse boxes, well then, that was bonus time they could use to explore this new bond between them until a new hunt took them back out on the road.


End file.
